


Just Take Me Back to Yours, That Will Be Fine

by ashe1



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, sorta - Freeform, technically adam would be one of the characters but he only had a brief mention, the original slowburn, this killed me to write bits of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashe1/pseuds/ashe1
Summary: "There was a bus approaching them. The front of it said it was heading to Oxford, but it would be driving to London anyway, even if the driver didn’t know why."When Armageddidn't is over, Crowley offers to let Aziraphale stay at his flat since there's nowhere else for Aziraphale to go.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	Just Take Me Back to Yours, That Will Be Fine

Adam Young had just stopped the Apocalypse. Crowley and Aziraphale would like to think they played a large part in it, but truth be told it was mostly Adam and his friends. That was irrelevant, however. What was important was Aziraphale needed a place to stay for the night.

There was a bus approaching them. The front of it said it was heading to Oxford, but it would be driving to London anyway, even if the driver didn’t know why.

He had forgotten that Crowley told him his bookshop burned down earlier that day. In fact, he made mention of it now.

“I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley gave him the pained look of someone who doesn’t know how to break the news of a loved one’s death. “Angel,” he began gently. “It burned down. Remember?”

He watched as the angel’s face sank and then, unable to watch his best friend’s suffering, said, “You can stay at my place. If you like.” He didn’t want to seem as though he was forcing Aziraphale into anything.

Aziraphale hesitated. “I- I don’t think my side would like that,” he replied sadly. It was clear that he would like to stay at Crowley’s flat, more than anything, but after thousands of years where that simply wasn’t an option, he found himself unable to accept.

“You don’t have a side anymore,” Crowley reminded Aziraphale. “Neither of us do. We’re on our own side.”

Aziraphale contemplated this for a moment, made up his mind, and Crowley hailed the bus. As they were sitting down, the angel grabbed his hand and sat down beside the demon. Aziraphale no longer considered Crowley a hereditary enemy. He hadn’t for some time, but he finally admitted it now.

* * *

They arrived at Crowley’s flat and Aziraphale departed with the demon. The two of them entered the elevator and Crowley hit the top button. As they moved steadily upwards, Aziraphale caught Crowley staring at him. Even though he kept the sunglasses on, the angel could still tell what Crowley was thinking. It was clear that Crowley wanted Aziraphale’s approval.

“I do believe I’ve never been to your flat before, my dear,” said the angel.

“Ngh. It’s nothing, really,” Crowley replied noncommittally.  
All too soon, they arrived and Crowley opened the door to the flat. He never locked it; not even the biggest idiot would be stupid enough to try and rob him.

It was very open. Apart from the houseplants, there was a distinct lack of color. Most of the surfaces were dark gray or black, fitting Crowley’s aesthetic perfectly. There was a large bedroom, a living room, an office, and even a kitchen, despite Crowley not eating. He would insist that it was to keep up appearances, but the truth was that he had it there in the event that Aziraphale ever came by. Humans never entered his apartment except for the lady downstairs when she came to watch Golden Girls with him, but she wouldn’t have found anything wrong even if there wasn’t a kitchen. It was very likely she already knew he wasn’t human, despite the fact that humans weren’t supposed to know. She was a very intelligent woman, after all, and incredibly observant.

Crowley showed Aziraphale around the flat and the angel paid very close attention to everything. Eventually, they arrived at the study.

Crowley doesn’t read. He might have liked to, but the snake eyes don’t really do much help. He could read, of course, if he set his mind to it, but oftentimes it wasn’t worth the headache he got when he read a lot at once. So no, he doesn’t read.

Despite this fact, he had a very large collection of books. If he was honest with himself, he started collecting them when he found out Aziraphale liked books. They were all first editions, too, and although he didn’t have nearly as many as the angel, the collection still awed Aziraphale, who turned to look at Crowley. “Dear boy…”

“You can read any of them if you like, it’s not like they get any use from me,” Crowley shrugged. He had read a few but seeing as they did more harm than good, he had given up.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale breathed. It turned out, all of the books on display were ones that he himself had told Crowley he enjoyed. He couldn’t believe the demon had paid such close attention to what he said over the past millennia.

“Don’t mention it.”

They made their way to the kitchen next. “You hungry, Angel?” Crowley asked, to which the angel nodded.

Crowley thought he had a cookbook somewhere, then realized he overlooked it when he was settling into the flat. After all, why would a being with no need to eat have a cookbook? The kitchen was there in the dim hopes that Aziraphale might stop by, but the lack of a cookbook revealed Crowley knew deep down that it wasn’t going to happen. _And yet, here we are,_ mused the demon

He snapped his fingers and a book appeared out of thin air. Aziraphale got a glance at the page it was open to and thought he saw a recipe for crepes.

* * *

As Aziraphale ate, he found his mind wandering. He wondered what it would be like to live like this every day, being able to stay with Crowley. It felt so, what was the word, _domestic_. He found he rather enjoyed it.

* * *

It was getting late, and Aziraphale was reading. The particular story he was reading was Romeo and Juliet, which he was quite fond of. He and Crowley had been at the rehearsals, of course, but reading it and seeing it performed when it was still new were two very different things.

“Angel?” Crowley asked. He was laying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling, but now he looked over to Aziraphale.

The angel looked up. “Yes, my dear?”

“Will you, erm, that is to say, would you maybe...read to me? Only if you want to, of course,” Crowley added hastily. “If you don’t want to you--”

“Of course I will, dear,” replied Aziraphale. “I would be delighted.”

Crowley went and sat on the floor in front of the angel and leaned back against the couch. Aziraphale picked up where he had left off reading.

“ _If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss._

“ _Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss._

“ _Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?_

“ _Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer._

“ _O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn into despair._

“ _Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake._ ”

“ _Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged._ ” Crowley murmured.

“You remembered that day?” Aziraphale asked incredulously.

The demon nodded. “How could I forget when you were right there beside me?”

Realization dawned on the angel’s face. “I- oh, _Crowley!_ ”

“I- er- ngk!” Crowley sputtered. He couldn’t believe he actually _said_ It aloud. That was something he had kept under wraps for six thousand years, and he just blew his cover! What if Aziraphale didn’t like him like that? The thoughts that had been plaguing him for the whole time he had known the angel all came down on him at once. “N-nevermind, forget I said anything,” he mumbled.

Now Aziraphale was worried. Had he read too much into it? Surely he had; Crowley couldn’t really have feelings for him, right? It must all be in his head. That was the only explanation. It must have been clear that Aziraphale liked him, so it only made sense that he would deny it if he didn’t feel the same.

“We should get some rest,” muttered Crowley. Angels and demons didn’t, strictly speaking, _need_ rest, but it was a worldly experience that Crowley found himself to rather enjoy. He was able to turn off the world around him and just relax, a luxury he couldn’t often afford. You weren’t exactly allowed to sleep in Hell.

Aziraphale didn’t sleep, although he would have liked to try it someday. He had spoken about it once. “No rest for the, well, good,” he had said. However, he found himself wanting to experience sleep now. “Oh, alright,” he told Crowley.

The demon turned to him. “Where do you want to sleep? You can take my room if you like. I can sleep on the floor. I don’t mind,” he quickly added. “It’s really no big deal.”

Aziraphale looked shocked. “I can’t take your bed! That would be rude of me! I’ll manage,” he assured Crowley. “But, if it’s alright with you, I think I’d like to stay in your room.”

“O-of course, Angel,” he stammered.

* * *

Crowley had snapped his fingers and a mattress had appeared on the ground. It was very soft and had plush covers that Aziraphale loved. The angel crawled under the covers and tried to settle down to sleep.

Eventually, he found himself asking Crowley how to sleep. He had never done it before, and so he had no idea what he was doing.

“Well, you just have to-- Huh. I suppose I don’t really know,” he said, cutting himself off. He had never really thought about it before, so explaining was...difficult. “I suppose first you have to relax. Y’know, let your mind go blank and all that. I guess it comes easily after that.”

“Ah,” was all that Aziraphale could think to say. That, and “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

Aziraphale laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking. He wished that Crowley liked him back. He thought about how much he wished circumstances had been different, that he hadn’t been so afraid. He reprimanded himself. _Even if you_ had _told him sooner,_ a small voice in his head said, _it wouldn’t have made a difference. He doesn’t like you like that, and no amount of earlier confessions would have changed that._ He tried to stop thinking about Crowley and get some sleep.

Meanwhile, Crowley had a similar dilemma. He couldn’t stop thinking about how _stupid_ he had been to practically confess his love for the angel. _After all, he could never love a demon like me,_ he thought to himself. _How could he? I’m unforgivable, that’s what I am._ Eventually, the thoughts subsided enough for him to drift off. They weren’t completely gone, but there was a slight reprieve all the same.

* * *

When Aziraphale awoke the next morning, he smelled eggs coming from the kitchen. He sat up and sure enough, Crowley wasn’t there. Aziraphale wandered out of the bedroom and saw the demon making eggs and bacon. He sat at the breakfast bar and watched Crowley cook. He was quite good at it, actually.

When the Serpent of Eden had finished, he put a plate down in front of the angel and looked at him expectantly to find Aziraphale staring at his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses; he saw no need to, but now he was wishing he had put them on out of sheer embarrassment. He never really liked his eyes, had always hated them in fact. They were a painful reminder of what he was: Fallen. He couldn’t remember his time in Heaven very well, but he did know that his eyes weren’t the way they were now.

Aziraphale looked down then, and Crowley turned away. He was incredibly self-conscious and immediately thought that the angel didn’t like his eyes and was looking at them in disgust.

It wasn’t a look of disgust. Aziraphale had lost himself in Crowley’s eyes. He found them to be beautiful if he was honest. He hurriedly ate the breakfast the demon had prepared for him and didn’t make any mention of his eyes, even though he really wanted to.

* * *

There are a great many things Crowley enjoys. One of them is spending time with his angel. That was currently what he was doing, and even though neither of them was saying anything, it wasn’t a _bad_ silence. Sure, it was a little awkward, especially after the events of the previous night, but it was companionable. They often didn’t need to say anything to know what the other was thinking. Right now, however, they didn’t know.

What Aziraphale wanted to say was, “Dear boy, I don’t want to make things awkward between us or lose you, but I feel like I must be honest with you. The thing is, Crowley, I’m in love with you and even though this might push you away, I couldn’t stay silent about it any longer.” But he didn’t say it. Perhaps he was too afraid of the negative consequences he might face if, and he believed it was a when instead, Crowley didn’t feel the same. So, he said nothing.

Crowley, on the other hand, wanted to tell Aziraphale, “Angel, I’m so sorry for what I said last night. I really am in love with you, but I’m afraid that I went and mucked it all up. I wish I hadn’t said anything because I can’t bear to lose you again. I was so scared that you were gone forever when I saw your bookshop on fire, and you have no idea how relieved I was when you appeared in front of me in that pub and I realized that you might not be completely gone.” He stayed quiet. Not only was he terrified to face life without the angel, but he assumed that the bookshop was still painful for Aziraphale to think about. He didn’t want to hurt Aziraphale, and so there was nothing he felt he could do other than put his face in his hands.

Eventually, Aziraphale was the first to speak. “Crowley, I--”

“Angel, please. Don’t tell me that you don’t feel the same as me. I already know. Please, spare me the pain of hearing it out loud. I can’t bear to hear- to hear you don’t--” Why did he have to have issues saying it now? He needed to get it out there, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. Aziraphale could hear Crowley’s voice crack as he spoke, and suddenly, he understood.

“My dear, that’s the thing.”

“What?” Crowley looked up, and Aziraphale saw glistening tear tracks down the demon’s face.

“I thought last night, when you told me to forget you said anything, that you meant you didn’t love me. I jumped to conclusions and I’m so sorry for it. I actually really love you, my dear. I know it was also my fault because I didn’t say it back. I was terrified that I had it wrong, you see, that you just meant I was memorable and not that you were in love with me. But now I realize that you were telling me, in your own way.

“I know you didn’t mean to say anything about it, that was very clear when you told me to forget about it, but I love you. I can’t bear to let you sit there and think that I don’t feel anything for you, because I do. I was too scared to tell you sooner, but I have to say something. It’s not fair for you to keep going on like this, scared to tell me about how you feel.”

Crowley felt like he had gotten hit in the head with a brick. This wasn’t how he expected the conversation to go. Granted, he _had_ expected Aziraphale to tell him something along the lines of “Okay, I won’t. But it doesn’t change the reality of things. I need to be alone now, to process this.” He hadn’t thought Aziraphale would return his feelings for him.

Angels are hardwired to sense love. Demons are not. However, while angels may be able to feel it from humans, they aren’t built to know when another immortal being harbors love, in this case, a demon being madly in love with an angel. In other words, both Crowley and Aziraphale had been flying blind, each unaware of the love the other harbored.

Demons aren’t supposed to _feel_ love either, but that was different. Crowley hadn’t thought he would be able to feel love again after the Fall, but yet he felt it from the moment Below had sent him up and he met Aziraphale. There was no mistaking it: Crowley, against all odds, could experience love even though demons weren’t supposed to.

He opened his mouth. He closed it again. A pause, and then: “How do you love- I mean to say, why would you love _me?_ I’m a _demon!_ Aren’t I-” He took a deep breath. “Aren’t I unforgivable?”

Aziraphale looked at him, held Crowley’s face in his hands, and looked him dead in the eyes. “You are an amazing person. And don’t go denying it, let me finish.” Crowley had been about to protest vehemently. “I love you because of who you are. You have never let me down, and even if you were to not do exactly as you say you would, that wouldn’t change how I feel about you. If I’m honest with you, there’s not anything anyone can do to change my feelings. I love you, Crowley, and demon or not, I believe you’re anything but unforgivable. No matter what, I’ll stay by your side. I promise.”

“You really mean it?” he asked.

“Of course, my dear.”

Crowley threw his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him close, nestling his head against the angel’s neck. He realized how stupid he had been to think that Aziraphale wouldn’t accept him the way he was, and he cherished the moment with his entire soul. He would do anything for Aziraphale, even if it destroyed him. The thought might have scared anyone else, but for Crowley, it gave him strength.

“And my eyes?” he asked. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe Aziraphale hadn’t hated them.

“I think they’re beautiful.”

There would be consequences for stopping Armageddon, of course, but both the angel and the demon knew that whatever happened, they would face it together, and they took comfort in the fact that neither Heaven nor Hell could keep them apart. Whatever the punishment, they knew they would see each other again, and that was worth more than anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I cranked this whole thing out in a day! Comic Sans really does wonders for creativity,,,Credit goes to Good Omens (Amazon Prime) at the beginning and where there's mention of no rest for the good, and to Romeo and Juliet.


End file.
